Is It Tenure Yet? (You're Standing On My Track)
by JohnnyLurg
Summary: 15 years after her graduation from Lawndale High, we find Daria an underappreciated Pepperhill University prof. True, Pepperhill's a party school, but a student populace apathetic to academics are the least of Daria's woes when Quinn arrives as the department's hip new hire, upstaging Daria's vast knowledge with her fashionable ways, and attracting many an undergrad in the process.
1. Chapter 1

"I can't believe a college as politically and religiously conservative as Pepperhill would select you to be their first lesbian Artist in Residence," said Professor Daria Morgendorffer to her longtime companion Jane Lane as the two women sipped java mochas in the luxury of Pepperhill University's café.

"Tell me about it," said Jane, adjusting her coffee mug while effortlessly sketching an anatomically correct portrait of Monique, her latest significant other. "if only a single one of my students had the slightest ounce of talent or God forbid the self-discipline to put down an overflowing red Dixie cup for a couple of nights, I'd actually find my position to be an honor."

"You know," Daria snarked as she leafed through Pepperhill's literary curriculum's newest addition, a sea green pamphlet of prose with a black and white photo of a modestly attractive Latina on the cover entitled _Revenge of the Lawn,_ "I believe it was Richard Brautigan who once quipped, 'I don't care how smart these guys are, I'm bored' while himself serving as Artist in Residence at Cal Tech. Maybe if he had taken a week off and came here, he'd realize how privileged he was all along. And maybe he would have killed himself sooner."

"How's your side gig as advisor of the _Peppermill_ coming along, Daria?"

"Well, as much as I hate censorship of the arts, I'm beginning to fear I might have to finally step in and hinder somebody else's creative freedom every time I read another issue's sex column. Does this guy have anything more enlightening to write about than boasts of his latest conquests?"

"Is that so," murmured Jane. "Who would have thunk that fifteen years after graduation, we'd perpetually still be in high school? Has nothing changed?"

The café's hefty television blared from above their table. "Sounds like no mews is good mews! History's first cat meme found inside the Great Sphinx at Giza, tonight on _Sick Sad World_!"

"Good God, that show went downhill after we graduated," remarked Daria.


	2. Chapter 2

"Curious," said Daria as she sifted through the list of Pepperhill literature faculty for the upcoming semester. "Curious indeed."

"You never talk like that," said Professor LeSavage Heade, the department chairman, as his hulking silhouette towered over Daria's shapely figure. "Is it sarcasm I'm detecting? It's always hard to tell with you when you speak in such a monotone, you see."

Daria scoffed. "Lack of differentiation in tone didn't keep six millennia's worth of satirical writers from getting their points across, from Juvenal to the most juvenile of LiveJournalists and Twitterers."

"Tweeters, actually," corrected the department head, only to receive a blank stare. "Daria, when your sister arrives at the department tomorrow, I want you to show her around the campus, all the hallowed halls we have to offer…you know, make her feel at home."

"Sister?!" asked Daria, losing her cool and her monotone simultaneously as she manically skimmed the list before locating 'Quinn Morgendorffer, M.A.: Lecturer" directly below 'Daria Morgendorffer, Ph. D.: Associate Professor." "They said it couldn't be done, but it appears my sister actually succeeded in obtaining her M.A. before her M.R.S. degree."

"What's an M.R.S.?" asked Professor Heade. "So, you'll show her the works, sounds good. She made quite the impression on Pepperhill's hiring board, I'll have you know. I don't think I've seen a hire with the promise of connecting so well with the student body since…well…myself, if I may take a brief departure from my usual humility."

"Go right ahead," said Daria as she abruptly ran from the faculty lounge, heading for the Artist in Residence's office.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, Quinn arrived on the Pepperhill University grounds, clad in fabrics which were unknown to Daria but obviously all the rage. The fact that her auburn hair was in a bun was the closest she had come to achieving professionalism in her appearance, and she lacked any visible teaching aids as she strolled into the quad.

"Oh my God, Daria, like have you met that _dreamy _department head?" she asked her sister.

Daria grimaced through a well-preserved copy of _A Good Man is Hard to Find_. "Quinn, I just finished teaching my linguistics course and I have ten minutes before my introductory lecture on Flannery O'Connor for 20th Century Feminists. I presume you, on the other hand, have a Bechdel test to study for?"

"Oh, silly Daria, I'm a graduate. I'll never have to study again in my life," said Quinn, flashing a radiant smile which Daria reflected with her book. "Gotta run, Daria. Good luck with Fanny O'Connor!" She lifted her silver phone to her ear to initiate a conversation more meaningful to her. "Oh, hi, Tiffany, is this the right time? Oh, perfect, perfect. So, like, you are never going to believe how much of a dreamboat my department head is...I know, the Fashion Club reunion will have a _huge _turnout…"

Taking an aside glance at her watch, Daria stepped into the empty lecture hall. While waiting for the bell to ring, it became obvious that the class attendance was going to be as barren as usual, with many students likely not willing to appear on campus earlier than 2 PM.

"So, I have been advised to assume that all of you have read the title story in _A Good Man is Hard to Find. _Naturally, a good man _is _hard to find in this story, but nevertheless there are several quite interesting characters. No doubt the most alluring of all is the work's antagonist, the Misfit. Now, what message is O'Connor conveying here? By drawing attention to a serial murderer such as the Misfit, is she intending a message that being evil is more, uh, fun than being good?"

"I've got something to say," said a male student in the back row, wearing a backwards white baseball cap and a matching polo shirt.

Daria grew a bit concerned that the student might proceed to quote the rest of The Misfits' "Last Caress" in reference to the coincidental name of the story's antagonist, but then realized that the vast majority of these overgrown adolescents had never even heard a true punk rock song.

"Are you Quinn's sister?" asked the student.

"Yes, and I'd be more than happy to introduce you two after class, but do you have any thoughts regarding the nature of this story's premise?"

"Oh, that's fine. We've already been introduced," replied the student, grinning licentiously.

"Fascinating," said Daria, gritting her teeth. "Moving forward…"

"Dude, Quinn is so hot," the same student audibly whispered to his neighbor, who nodded in agreement before giving his friend a high five.

Just then, Daria's cell phone began to vibrate within her pocket. As she knew better than to answer it during class, she attempted to continue with the lecture for the next half hour but was continually cut off by the constant vibrating of her cell phone and the jeers of the inattentive class. Finally, Daria could take the nonsense no longer and picked up the phone. Every single one of the thirteen missed calls had been from Quinn.

"Class dismissed early," said Daria as she dialed her sister. Within 30 seconds, each of Daria's students abandoned the lecture hall. She curtly spoke into her Nokia. "Quinn, I thought I told you that I have class."

"Oh, I had it too, Daria," said Quinn. "But—But, the thing is, I don't, like, know anything about literature or the like. Daria, I manip—how do you say it?"

"Manipulated?" asked Daria.

"I manip—manipulated my way through college and grad school. I shouldn't even be teaching here," confessed Quinn.

As soon as she revealed her secret, Quinn walked into the lecture hall, looking completely distraught. Her black mascara ran down her face as she stood there teary-eyed. "I don't know what to do with my life anymore, Daria. Everything, like, just kind of fell apart after the Fashion Club. Life after high school just isn't the same, y'know?"

"That's funny," said Daria. "I always felt the opposite. B.F.A., M.F.A., Ph. D., and all the while I'm still asking myself 'is it college yet?'"

"Daria, I want you to know that I already quit my job. I'm unem…" Quinn proceeded to cry hysterically.

"Unemployable?" asked Daria. "I mean…" That was a little harsh even for me, she thought. I may hate Quinn sometimes, but I'll always love her, and would never want to see her starving involuntarily in the streets. But what occupation would suit Quinn?

Before Daria could even fathom the Quinn's potential at succeeding in the fashion industry, a hulking figure entered the auditorium. It was Dr. LeSavage Heade again, appearing somewhat bewildered.

"Oh, there you are, Quinn. I've been looking everywhere for you." He firmly embraced Quinn and they shared a peck on the lips. "I just wanted you to know that I just finalized my divorce about an hour ago and we can start packing our bags for Tahiti ASAP."

"Aww, I'm so glad you accepted the fact that I'm saving myself for marriage," said Quinn. "Our honeymoon's gonna be bomb!"

"Sure is," chuckled Dr. LeSavage Heade. "And my tenure will ensure that you never have to work another day in your pretty little lifetime." They exited the lecture hall, hand in hand and tongue in tongue.

"Oh, that Quinn," said Daria with a hint of admiration shining through her trademark monotone. "I should have abandoned my lectures on Flannery O'Connor years ago, because that woman had it all wrong. If you happen to be the right kind of person in this world, a good man isn't too hard to find after all." She bid adieu to the otherwise empty classroom to schedule another meeting with her only friend, Pepperhill University's Artist in Residence.


End file.
